


Snow White Queen

by Lyl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:25:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyl/pseuds/Lyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Spike wanted to get revenge on Willow for the Will Be Done spell?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize profusely for the corny lines, lame plot points and total lack of any real characterization.

Spike leaned casually against the window sill, blowing smoke out the open window while keeping a close eye on the figure on the bed. It wouldn't do for her to wake early and ruin all his carefully laid out plans.

Some were of the opinion that he was brash and reckless, never planning ahead or considering the consequences, and while that may be partially true, it didn't mean he was stupid or unprepared. Despite his flaws – and there were many, he was honest enough to admit – not even Angelus could deny the fact that Spike often came up with the best plans. And his current one was his best so far.

He'd had more than a month tied up in a bathtub in the Watcher's house to come up with it, and it was one of his best, if he did say so himself. He also knew that the biggest risk in this entire endeavour was his own impatience and boredom. The longer it took to complete, the more likely he was to ruin his own carefully laid out plans due to boredom. The recent debacle in LA a prime example. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't curse himself for that cock up, knowing that if he'd just stuck to the plan like he'd intended, then he'd have that bloody ring on his hand right this moment.

But Spike didn't think that would be a problem this time. The last weeks of chained humiliation in the Watcher's bath room had taught him some patience – not a lot, but enough to get him through the waiting periods. He also had a short window of opportunity in which to act.

And act he would, because the witch had to pay.

As he thought on the events that had set him on this course of action, Spike could feel the rage building in him with every beat of the only heart in the room.

The stupid little girl had toyed with his head, making him think he was in love with the Slayer. The bleeding spell she'd performed had made him into a drooling dimwit when the Slayer was around, making him want to please her with every fibre of his being. His every thought had been about her, and how to make her happy. Even Dru had never filled his mind as much as Buffy had for that brief time.

And whatever Willow had done to fix the spell hadn't worked. Spike knew it to the very core of his being, because even after this long, he still felt drawn to the damn Slayer. He couldn't seem to keep her out of his thoughts, and nothing was helping. He craved being in the same room as her, even if it was only for the smallest of seconds. He needed to hear her voice and smell her shampoo and be the focus of her attention, no matter what form it took. He found himself following her on patrols, furious over every scrape she took and jealous that her soldier boyfriend was the one to look after them.

It was pathetic and sad and so very unhealthy for a vampire to obsess this way over a vampire slayer.

He was turning into Angel, and it had to end.

Looking at the unconscious red head on the bed, he felt satisfaction flow through him. Willow claimed the spell was fully reversed, and while he was sure she was convinced, he wasn't. It couldn't be, if he was still feeling this way weeks later. The few other witches he'd forced himself to go to hadn't found any hint of a spell left on him, which meant that whatever had been done to him was permanent, and a simple removal or undo spell wouldn't work.

He refused to be stuck lusting after the killer of vampire-kind, while the source of his present hell went merrily on her way. Revenge was most definitely due.

The presence of the chip put a kink in his plans. Where before he would have simply kidnapped Willow, tied her up and tortured her until he was sufficiently satisfied – or she was dead – now he had to rely on a different form of torment, hoping that in the end it would be just as satisfying.

Soon, the Slayer's pet witch would truly know what suffering was. If she thought losing the wolf boy was bad, wait until he was done with her. She wouldn't know what hit her after he was done with her, of that he was sure.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. A brief query let him know it was the person he'd been waiting for, so he opened the door, allowing the man to enter and head for the bed.

Spike allowed himself a moment to savour the damage a few well-paid demons could inflict upon a hapless witch. Since he'd been chipped, satisfying violence of the human variety had become rare, and while he hadn't personally inflicted any of the damage on the unconscious witch, he was enjoying just the same.

Spike smiled in gratification as the battered red head shied away from his guest's touch, whimpering in pain even while unconscious.

Vengeance would soon be his.

He couldn't wait.

~*~

Somewhere, somebody moaned in pain, and as she slowly returned to full consciousness, she had a feeling it was her.

Her eyes opened before she was ready, giving her a quick glance at a light ceiling before slamming them closed again as a pain in her head made its presence felt. A few deep breaths later, and she felt confident enough to try it again, slowly raising sluggish eyelids that almost refused to cooperate.

A round light set against a pale background was her first sight of the room she was in. Deciding that it didn't tell her much, she turned her head to the side, instantly regretting it as the room swam before her eyes. Swallowing down the nausea, she saw a dresser and mirror against the wall, next to a closed door, and hoped it was a bathroom.

The room she was currently in didn't look at all familiar, but that didn't mean much.

Her first attempt at real movement resulted in full body agony, and it took her a few minutes to sort out that her body wasn't one big pain sensor, but rather a series of them. From her feet to her head, she didn't think that there were many spots that didn't radiate some kind of ache or pain.

Pushing herself up, she managed to hold back her sounds of pain, but still released a shuddering breath once she was upright. She knew she really shouldn't be doing anything, if the protests of her body were any indication, but she had to figure out what was going on.

She didn't recognized this room, or know how she got there, or even what had happened to her. In fact, a quick look down told her that even the clothes she was wearing weren't familiar. It was some sort of faded green cargo pants and a colourful top that she didn't remember buying. An image flashed through her mind, of seeing this same top on a hanger in a store, but it was gone before she could latch on to anything else.

And now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember anything else. She couldn't remember buying the clothes she was wearing, putting them on this morning, or even if it _was_ morning. It could be evening, the next day or even next week for all she knew. She brought her hands into her line of sight, hoping they would hold the answers to all her questions, but all that did was giver her more. They were scraped and red and totally unfamiliar to her. In fact, nothing about herself was familiar. Looking down at her chest confirmed that she was female, but other than that she was drawing a complete blank on her own life. She didn't recognize anything about her, remember anything about herself or even what she looked like.

She was a blank.

Deciding she could answer at least one of her questions, she cautiously rose from the bed and, taking small steps, made her way to the mirror she had noticed earlier.

Her heart started beating faster at her first look at her reflection.

Well, she was apparently a red head. That was nice to know, if only to add another item in the 'What I know' column. She wondered if she had freckles, but couldn't tell under all the bruising and dim lighting.

What had happened to her? And why wasn't she in a hospital? Was the person who did this still around – if a person had actually done this, of course. Or had she been in some kind of accident? But again, why wasn't she in the hospital?

A glint of light in the mirror caught her attention, and her gaze moved to the reflection of her neck. She was wearing a necklace, of sorts, but it didn't really look like a necklace. It was black leather, with a large silver chain laid over top, the leather looping over the links every few inches. Actually, it looked more like a choker, with a large engraved disk at her throat.

Why would she be wearing this? It didn't match anything she was wearing. The question rolled around her brain even as her trembling fingers traced the metal and leather that graced her neck.

So many questions, but still no real answers.

She leaned in closer to get a better look at the engraving on the disk, when the opening of a door on the far side of the room drew her attention.

“What are you doing up and about, Willow?” asked a demanding, accented voice.

She watched with wide eyes as an unnaturally blonde man strode into the room, berating her with every step.

“You shouldn't be out of bed yet.” he added, putting down the tray he was carrying on the nearby desk.

“Who-?Wha-?” she stuttered, not sure of what to say or how to act. This man apparently knew her, but she didn't know him. Then again, she didn't know herself at the moment, either.

“Come on, luv.” he said gently, the endearment tugging at something deep within her. “You still need to rest.”

She could only blink at him in wary acceptance as he took her arm, gently guiding her back to the bed. There was something familiar about this man, something she should know, but for the life of her she couldn't figure it out. It was a strange feeling, nevertheless, if only because her own face – as distorted as it currently was – hadn't sparked this kind of recognition in her.

“Who-” she started again, only to be sidetracked as he started pulling the covers over her, leaning in closer than she thought was strictly necessary.

“Willow?” he asked again in a concerned voice, sitting to face her on the bed.

_Willow..._ she thought with some surprise. That sounded like a name, and in the present context, it sounded like her name. Maybe it _was_ her name. She tried it out in her head, and liked the sound of it – the name felt right in some visceral way.

She looked up to ask the man for more information, but instead went very still. She hadn't realized how close he was, and she found herself staring into a pair of deep blue eyes that seemed to see every part of her, even the parts of herself she didn't remember. The room felt like it had melted down around them, encasing them in their own little bubble of the universe.

“Who are you?” she asked him quietly, her voice little more than a whisper.

This close to him, she could almost see the thoughts fly through his mind - his eyes a window into his thoughts. She could mark almost the exact instant that her question penetrated – forehead crinkled, eyes narrowing slightly and confusion and concern warring in his dark gaze.

“You don't remember me?” he asked her carefully, leaning in a touch closer.

She shook her head hesitantly, biting her lip as she awaited his reaction. So far, he was her only link to herself and her past, and she didn't want him to leave. She trusted him, despite having only met him, but he was her only anchor into this unknown world she had been thrust into.

“I'm Spike.” he said, as if that alone would unlock the rush of memories.

“And I'm....Willow?” she asked him hesitantly, wanting to be sure it wasn't just a pet name – or nickname, like Spike obviously was. At least, she hoped it was a nickname.

“Yeah, luv. You're Willow.” he replied, his own nod as slow as his words. His forehead was still creased in concern/confusion, and Willow felt she could get lost in the lines and grooves on the pale flesh. Her eyes traced over the curves of his face, memorizing every detail, hoping that something would jog her memory – the hair, the cheekbones, the scar in his eyebrow....

Nothing.

“And I know you...how?” she asked him, each word carefully formed.

“You really don't remember me?” he asked her again, as if testing that she was telling the truth.

She just shook her head again, keeping her wide eyes on him the whole time. Some part of her felt as if letting him out of her sight, for even a second, would lose her any chance of regaining her memory.

“We're lovers.”

~*~

Spike watched in hidden amusement as the witch's eyes widened even further at his revelation. Then she blinked; but the eyes still stayed wide open.

This was the critical moment he knew. If he didn't pull off a believable 'concerned, loving boyfriend', then there was no way this whole charade could continue on it's tight timetable. He'd already limited his window of opportunity by having some demons who owed him a favour rough her up earlier, but it had been a necessary part of his overall plan.

A plan he was coming to see wasn't going to be as much of a hardship as he'd originally thought.

The Slayer's pet witch was a right nice piece of ass, even covered in bruises and scratches – or even _because_ she was covered in bruises and scratches. They looked lovely against her pale skin.

“I'm going to call the doctor. You're in shock.” he told her, deciding she'd had enough time to absorb his 'announcement'.

“No, no.” she said, and Spike could see her shake herself out of her stupor. “I just didn't- I mean, I-”

Spike allowed himself a small – and hopefully, fond – smile curve to his lips as her cheeks flushed, and he decided to see just how much she would allow, given the current 'circumstances'.

He raised a hand to her face, and gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, smiling a little more when she immediately quieted, her mouth parting slightly. He let his fingers trail slowly down the side of her neck, over the leather and metal collar he'd placed around her throat, and was pleased to see her tremble slightly at the caress.

“So, how long have we been...you know?” she asked him hesitantly, not completely able to keep the wobble from her voice, her face flushing even more.

“'Bout six months.” he told her. “We've known each other for a few years, but didn't get together until recently.”

“Oh.” was all she had to say.

“You should eat something.” he said, moving off the bed to retrieve the tray he'd brought up earlier. “I tried to get foods you like, but the kitchen is pretty bare at the moment.”

Placing the tray on her lap, Spike resumed his seat on the bed, watching her reactions carefully. This was the most critical time; if he got even a single facial expression wrong, this entire thing would be derailed before it had even begun. He just hoped Willow wasn't aware enough to catch any slips he made.

He wasn't perfect, after all.

“What _do_ you remember, luv?” Spike asked as she took a sip of the fruit juice, and wrinkled her nose in a small gesture of dislike. He made a note to add more sugar – the juice itself was apparently not enough to mask the underlying bitter flavour of the potion he'd added. Little Red had apparently not learned that she shouldn't piss off the witches of the Hellmouth – they were more than happy to make potions to use against her, when asked by a vampire such as himself.

“Well, I remember that the sky is blue, and that daytime television rots your brain, and that frogs are evil.” she told him, picking up the fork. “I know how to read and write – I think – and how to do most stuff – I think. But I don't remember anything about who I am, where I live or where I am now.”

“How did I get hurt?” she asked him after a moment, eyeing him warily from under her lashes.

Spike watched her for a minute, deciding how to play his next move.

Reaching out, he trailed his fingers over her hair, and prepared to give the performance of his lifetime.

So far.

~*~

Willow watched the doctor's hands as they moved lightly across her body, checking her injuries and other assorted doctor-type things. He was apparently one of the best non-doctor doctors in town, and mainly treated the supernatural element around town. (She was still finding it strange that learning about vampires and demons was less of a surprise to her than learning that she was sleeping with Spike – who was also a vampire.)

After hearing the story of how she got hurt from Spike, Willow couldn't remember much else. The doctor had said she'd gone into shock, but all she could recall was feeling suddenly light-headed and the world turning a fuzzy blue colour.

“So....you're a doctor.” Willow said, instantly berated herself for her lack of subtlety. She idly wondered if this was a new talent, or if she'd always been so conversationally incompetent. However, all it got her was a look and a raised eyebrow.

“Have you known me long?” she asked him, throwing out any thought of manipulating the conversation, especially from flat on her back.

“Not until two nights ago when Spike called me over to look at you.” he told her.

“So, then, you know what happened to me.” It was more of a statement, but he still nodded in response.

Willow could see shadows of sympathy and pity in his eyes, and it was almost enough to deter her, but only almost.

“Is it true?” she asked him. She didn't know why she needed confirmation from this stranger, but she did. Willow needed to hear it from someone other than Spike. “Did my 'supposed' best friend do this to me? For being with Spike?”

Willow held her breath as he took his time answering, almost hoping he would suddenly develop a case of laryngitis.

“I'm sorry.” was his response, and Willow hated him a little for it.

“But why would she-?” Willow started to ask, but had to stop to choke back a sob as her vision started to blur. “Why was it OK for her and Angel, but not me and Spike?” because Spike had explained about the 'Forbidden Love' in the Slayer's own past.

Willow felt a tear escape and roll down her cheek, but didn't move to wipe it away. She felt weak and shattered and vulnerable; nothing made sense any more. Before, she'd only felt lost and out of touch, but now it was like her world had fractured into a million pieces.

“Nobody knows why the Slayer does anything, Willow.” he told her.

“All over town, demons and vampires are running for cover. The Slayer's in a rage and taking it out on every non-human she comes across.”

“Because of me.” she whispered brokenly, more tears rolling down her face. “People are being hurt and killed, because Buffy is mad at _me_!”

“The Slayer doesn't need a bloody reason, Willow.” said an exasperated voice from the doorway. “She's a slayer – killing the things that go bump in the night is part of the job description.”

Looking at the pale form moving towards the bed, Willow felt an unaccustomed sense of calm settle on her. The feeling only increased as Spike settled himself next to her on the bed, wrapping her in his arms.

“The fact that she takes her personal problems to work with her, is more her problem than yours. Besides,” he said with a smirk. “It weeds out the weak.”

The doctor snorted in agreement, and Willow managed a glare in his direction before snuggling into Spike's embrace. It felt safe there, like he would protect her from the world, and at that moment, there was nowhere else she'd rather be.

“She going to be alright, Doc?” asked Spike, garnering Willow's attention.

“Take it easy for a few days, nothing too strenuous. And try to keep the emotional shocks to a minimum.” he said with a pointed look in Spike's direction. “I left Spike some of my medical ointment for the scrapes and bruises – the worst of them should be gone in a few days.”

“And what about her memory?” Spike asked, pre-empting Willow.

“I honestly don't know.” he told them, starting to pack up. “It could return in a few days, a few weeks or even a few months. It may also never return. You took a couple good blows to the head, but nothing that should have caused this type of memory loss. At this point, I think it's emotional trauma rather than physical.”

“What?!” demanded Willow.

“You took a heaving beating, Willow – in fact, I'm surprised you didn't break anything. Add to that the fact that you were betrayed by your best friend – the same best friend who has Slayer-enhanced strength and could have killed you with a single well-placed blow.... The mind has ways of dealing with severe emotional trauma, and this is one of them.”

“Is there anything we can do, Doc?” asked Spike, sounding concerned.

“I wouldn't push anything, Spike.” he told him. “These things have to work themselves out. You can't force anything.”

“Right.”

“Any more questions, Willow?” the doctor asked, ready to leave.

She started to shake her head, but suddenly thought of something.

“What's your name?”

“Just call me 'Doc'. Everyone in town does.” he said as he let himself out, casting one last look to the vampire who still had her wrapped in his arms, one had rubbing her side gently, careful of the bruising there.

“Are you feeling better, pet?” Spike asked her after a few minutes of silence.

“A little.” she whispered back, not wanting to break the quiet moment between them.

She felt Spike settle more deeply into the pillows behind them, and the world seemed to shrink around them again.

“So, six months, huh?” she asked him, hoping he'd be willing to talk about them some more – as in 'them'.

“Yeah, you were a hard little thing to resist, throwing yourself at me all the time. I finally had to give in and save you some dignity.” he said, and Willow could hear the smile in his teasing voice.

“I did not!” she told him with more conviction that she really had. _Maybe she had..._

“Well, maybe not.” Spike laughed, squeezing her gently. “We'd been spending so much time together during the summer, when all the rest of your gang of friends were doing their own thing somewhere else, that it just happened. Neither of us felt the need to stop doing what we were doing when the gang came back, but we also decided to keep it to ourselves.”

“We were worried about how Buffy would react.” A statement more than a question.

“Among others.”

“So how did she find out?” she asked, moving her head to look at his face.

“This.” Willow could feel his fingers move to the leather band at her neck, and her heart sped up.

“What-?” she tried to ask, biting her lip and crinkling her brow. When she first saw it, she'd known instinctively that it wasn't part of her normal wardrobe, but hadn't had the time or the desire to take it off yet. Now, with the importance Spike seemed to place upon it, she wondered if she ever would.

“You were tired of hiding, and I was tired of having to beat up demons and vamps to keep them away from you.” he told her, his fingers tracing the edges of the leather, and around the front to the metal disk. Just his touch sent shivers across her collar bone and down her arms. “This collar marks you as mine. It tells every demon and vamp that comes near you that I've claimed you as my mate, and to touch you means their death.” The last he growled, and Willow felt the vibrations all the way to her toes.

“Like a dog collar?” she demanded, anger and indignation rushing through her veins. There's no way – full memory or not – that she would ever have agreed to that. She _knew_!

“No, no.” he said, laying his hand on the exposed skin above her breasts. “It's a symbol that a vampire has taken a human as their mate.”

“So, like a wedding ring?” she asked after minute, trying to contain her smile.

“More or less.” he said with a wince that was so totally male, Willow couldn't help but let the smile burst free. “It's more of an engagement ring at this point.”

“Oh?”

“There's a spell that needs to be done, that ties us together, but we didn't quite make it to that part.”

“Oh?” she asked again, curious.

“You were on your way here when you ran in to the Slayer in the park.”

“Oh.” This time it was said in a small, sad voice.

“Don't fret, luv.”

Willow looked up at him just in time to see his head dip in her direction, and suddenly his lips were on hers. She noticed they were cool against her own, but that only seemed to send her blood racing through her veins.

A hand came up to caress the side of her face, nails lightly scraping the sensitive skin below her ear, and Willow trembled in reaction. Spike seemed to take this as a positive sign, because he deepened the kiss, urging with his lips, demanding entrance, and Willow was helpless to deny him. She relaxed deeper into his embrace, opening her lips under his mouth, moaning in pleasure when his cool tongue started teasing little forays into the warm cavern of her mouth.

After that, Willow lost track of time as lips, tongue and teeth all set nerves aflame, while that devilish hand ghosted across what exposed flesh it could find, before finding a final resting place on her breast. A thumb rubbed across a hardening nipple, sending streaks of fire through her body, pooling in her groin. Willow instinctively started breathing through her nose, never having to tear her lips away from Spike's, and thought she could die in bliss right this moment.

It was just an unfortunate accident that Spike touched the wrong bruise just then, causing Willow to squeal in pain and break the mood.

Silence reigned for a time as Willow willed her body to calm down and breath normally. A short time later, Willow felt herself getting a little restless, her body demanding that the aches be worked out, or at least stretched. She tried to be subtle about it, but obviously the small movements were enough to draw Spike's attention to the situation.

“Why don't you go have a shower, luv, and when you get out we'll put on some of that stuff Doc left behind.”

She hesitated for a second, but Spike urged her on.

“You've been laying here for two days, and the doc said to go easy, not lay abed all day.”

_Yes!_ She thought to herself, rising from the bed. _Shower._

~*~

_It had to be against every law of man and nature to feel this good._ Willow thought as another half-moan/half-whimper escaped her throat.

She was laying on the bed, face down, as Spike rubbed the medicinal ointment Doc had left, into her back. His cool hands were fantastic against her shower-warmed skin, and she could feel the stress leech out of her with every motion of his hands.

The man knew his way around the muscle groups, that was for sure.

It had taken a bit of convincing to her her into this position, but Spike had been sneaky and devious, and taken all her clothes while she was in the shower. Left with only a towel, and the vampire's dubious promise to be on his best behaviour, Willow had succumbed to the lure of an offer to 'rub the cream into those hard-to-reach places', which had turned out to be a full body massage.

If she'd had any doubts about their relationship before now, they were gone, as Spike worked his way around her body like he'd done it a hundred times before – because he probably had.

She'd been convinced to lay face down on the bed – naked, save for a towel across her butt – while Spike slowly and gently worked the cream into every pore. The feeling of Spike's hands moving across her body were so blissful and pleasurable, that she didn't even notice when the towel disappeared, leaving her completely naked. The first she was aware of it, Spike was working his way up her thigh, his fingers ridiculously close to her core.

“Spike...” she moaned, trying to pull herself together enough to protest, but finding she wasn't all that concerned.

“Relax, luv.” he said, his voice soft in the quiet of the room.

“I don't think-” she started, only to be cut off as he started massaging one cheek, then the other, pulling long moans of pleasure from her throat.

She was so relaxed, that she didn't protest too much when he gently turned her onto her back. There had to be some sort of numbing agent in the cream he was applying, because she could barely feel the damage to her body, only Spike's touch had any real effect. His touch was like fire, building up her own internal fever with every stroke of his hands.

He started at her feet this time, slowly working his way up, pausing every now and then to scoop more of the cream from the jar on the bedside table. His fingers did incredible things to her skin as they moved up past her hips, tracing her bellybutton with slick fingers before leaning down to nip at the flesh there, pulling a gasp from her throat.

Moving upwards to her breasts, he massaged them with fingers and palms, and Willow found herself having trouble breathing through all the sensation flooding through her body. Every nerve was starting to pulse as one, mirroring her increasing heartbeat. She felt fingers trace the outline of her breasts, panting in need and desire until a fingernail flicked a puckered nipple, causing her to gasp as sharp spikes of need shot through her trembling body.

Somewhere along the way – probably near the start – the entire episode had escalated from simple 'body massage' to 'foreplay'. Willow didn't know how far she'd let him go, or how far he was willing to go, but she had a feeling it would be a place she hadn't even considered.

Looking at Spike, she was surprised to see that somewhere along the way he'd removed his shirt. Seeing he had her attention, he bent his head to take one nipple into his mouth, worrying it with teeth and tongue into even greater hardness. Willow was no longer aware of the sounds coming out of her, and could only hope that when the end came, she was conscious and aware enough to enjoy it. But at the rate they were going, that was a pipe dream.

Once he switched his attention to her other nipple, Willow gave up any attempt to watch him, and turned her unseeing eyes on the blank ceiling above her. A hand came up to massage her other breast, fingers playing with the still-wet, swollen nipple, twisting and pulling it to greater hardness, and Willow called out his name, filled with a need she didn't know how to ask for. Pushing a hand into his hair, she held him at her breast even as her hips rose in an instinctual rhythm, pressing her dripping core against the thigh Spike had pressed there.

She didn't know how much time had passed before the hand stopped teasing her nipple, but she was aware of it as it made its way slowly down her stomach, around her hips, coming to rest at the heat between her thighs.

One finger pushed forward, touching her burning wetness. It dipped inside her pulsing channel quickly, before sliding up her slit to rest on the throbbing bundle of nerves resting there.

“Sp-Spike.” she gasped, her entire body tensing, anticipation making her limbs shake.

“Yes?” he asked her playfully, mouth sucking on the skin just below her ear, as his finger started moving over her clit. She could feel her core clench with every pass of his finger, pushing her arousal to another level with every second that passed.

“I--” she tried again, finding it next to impossible to voice her demands. “Please.” she finally managed to force out, and was rewarded with a fierce kiss.

As the kiss deepened, the finger on her clit sped up, pressing harder with every pass. She knew she was gasping into the kiss, but she couldn't help it. All she could do was spread her legs wider, wrap both arms around his back, and hold on tight.

It seemed to go one for hours, but for all she knew, it had only been minutes. Either way, soon enough the sensations built to a breaking point, and the universe seemed to go still for a moment before shattering into a million pieces, her shout of release muffled by Spike's mouth.

“Go to sleep, Willow.” he told her a while later when she opened her mouth to say something.

Nodding in agreement, Willow turned in his arms to rest her head on his chest, and fell asleep with a smile on her face and her vampire's arms keeping her safe.


	2. Snow White Queen

Spike followed a discreet distance behind the witch, as she tried to sneak out of the small house he'd acquired on the outskirts of Sunnydale. While a part of him wanted to grab her and drag her back into the house – specifically the bedroom – he was well aware of the fact that to do so would only lose him any ground he'd gained the past days.

And what a grand six days it had been. He was enjoying himself more and more with every day that passed, and he wasn't talking about the sex. Well, that was a large part of it (Doc's special 'ointment' was really worth the favour he'd used up), but not everything. Willow, he'd discovered, was great company. Without her memories to shape her behaviour and responses, she was more open and talkative than he'd thought. She was also intelligent and thoughtful, willing to talk about every subject, a great number of which she'd surprised herself with her knowledge of.

It got him thinking about the full-memory Willow he'd known from before, and the difference between the two. Granted, there were similarities – the blushing and babbling, eye-rolling and expressive faces when she got really excited about something. But there were also differences – she was more open and confident, and while still nervous about things she didn't remember, she was much more adventurous, more prone to taking risks. Spike had a hypothesis that this version of Willow – the one with no memories to shape her behaviour – was what she would have become without the constraints and rules society has thrust upon her.

Whatever. He was just enjoying the fruits of his labours, so to speak – he could care less about the sociological aspects.

But despite all this, he'd noticed a slight distrust in her that still remained. She'd accepted his explanation of events so far, but he could tell that a part of her wanted – needed – further proof.

And that was the reason behind tonight's excursion. Spike knew it was a big risk, letting her 'sneak' out of the house to wander around town, but he also knew that to prevent it would lose him any ground he'd gained with her. This was the crucial time in his plan, because if she turned away from him now, then everything would fall apart.

He hadn't been lying to Willow when he'd said that the claiming ritual would protect her – it would. Anyone who came in to contact with her, for the rest of her life, would know who she belonged to. That alone wasn't why he was doing this, though he did get a delicious thrill in knowing that she would be a walking billboard to the supernatural community, proclaiming to one and all that she had been claimed by a powerful master vampire. What this whole plot was about, was the torment it would cause her after. She would have a deep, driving need for him that could only ever be satisfied by him. No one else would ever be able to quench her desire or need.

That was the idea behind his entire plan – make her his, seal it with a sweet little ritual, then turn her loose after returning her memories. She'd be tormented the rest of her life with the desire and need for him, with the bonus of knowing she'd allowed it to happen – was a willing participant, even.

Because the best part of the ritual: Willow needed to be completely willing to submit to him, to give everything she was to him. If there was even the smallest shred of resistance or doubt in her mind, then it wouldn't work.

Which meant he had to allow her to think she was successful in her escape from the house.

He only hoped nothing would happen to ruin his carefully thought out plans.

So Spike swiftly followed behind her, following her as she made her way unerringly through an unfamiliar-yet-familiar town, until she reached one of the many cemeteries that dotted the Hellmouth.

_Figures she'd find her way here._ he thought, hoping neither of them would meet up with the Slayer, her friends or anyone else who would inadvertently reveal the truth to her.

He watched as she made her way slowly through the dark, sidestepping headstones as she passed. He followed her for a time, wondering what was going on in that brain of hers, when he noticed her start to pick up speed and head in another direction.

He cursed quietly to himself as his vampire hearing picked up the sounds of fighting a short distance away. Following closely, Spike cursed again as he recognized the shrill sound of the Slayer's voice.

She was pissed, and taking it out on some hapless demon.

It wasn't until he was closer, that he realized he should be thanking the blonde haired bimbo.

_”Where. Is. She.”_ Spike heard, each word punctuated by the sound of a fist hitting flesh.

Buffy was trying to beat information out of someone – a Larok demon, if he wasn't mistaken.

He hid himself behind a nearby tree when Willow froze, looking in horror at the scene before her. A quick glance at her face showed shock and horror, and he hoped it was in response to seeing the current beating, and not because her memories had suddenly broken free from the spell they were under. (They'd had enough conversations about Buffy, that he was fairly certain Willow recognized her from his description alone.)

_”Tell me what you know.”_ Buffy said again, menacing the bloody demon at her feet, one foot pressing down on his throat, resulting in garbled whimpers of pain.

_”I don't know where the witch is, Slayer._ the demon managed to gasp out.

_”Willow does not just disappear without telling anyone. Who took her?”_

_”I don't know.”_ came the pitiful response, which seemed to drive the Slayer into an even greater rage.

A scream of pure frustration and anger ripped itself from Buffy's throat. Leaning down, she looked at the beaten demon at her feet, reached out, and with a quick turn of her hands followed by a loud crack, the demon was no more.

A gasp of fear drew his attention back to Willow, who stood wide-eyed and terrified, her hands covering her mouth in horror.

“Willow!” cried the Slayer, moving towards Willow with a look of relief and happiness. It was such a drastic change from just a minute ago, that Willow backed away from her friend.

“Ohgod.” he heard Willow whisper, her eyes moving from Buffy, to the demon corpse and back again.

“Willow, you're alright.” exclaimed the Slayer, apparently oblivious to Willow's reaction. “I've been looking for you for days.” At that, Spike berated himself for not creating a better cover for the witch's disappearance. “I knew something had to have happened to you, but none of the demons in town would talk.”

Spike almost laughed aloud in manic glee, as the Slayer had just helped his cause more than he could have hoped.

“Ohgod.” repeated Willow, moving away from Buffy quickly, her wide eyes never leaving the supposed threat in front of her.

“Wait, Willow...” called out the Slayer, moving towards Willow in concern. “We need to talk-”

And that was when Spike realized that Willow's magic hadn't deserted her with her memories. It must be an instinctual response to danger, if the transparent green wall holding Buffy back was anything to go by.

“Just, stay away from me!” Willow yelled, before turning around and running back the way she had come.

Spike smiled in evil glee, and took off in the same direction, leaving a confused and worried Slayer behind.

Racing through the side streets, he managed to beat her back to the house, seating himself in the small living room, pretending to read. He stayed still as he heard her try to sneak back into the bedroom through the window, and wondered how he should play his next move. He had to convince her to complete the ritual with him, and figured that the Slayer had just done some of the work for him.

He waited a few minutes, debating whether or not to go into the bedroom for another round of 'ointment massage', when the bedroom door opened and out came Willow.

Spike watched as she slowly sat down on the couch across from him, pretending not to notice how her entire body trembled.

“You feeling better, luv?” he asked her, as she had supposedly been asleep for the past hour.

“Um-yeah. Better. Spike, I-” she said, and he gave her his full attention, waiting for her to say whatever was on her mind.

“Willow?”

“This spell that we were planning..” she began, touching the leather around her neck with a shaking hand. “It's permanent, right? I mean, Buffy wouldn't be able to break us up, right?”

“It's a 'till death do us part' kind of deal.” he told her. Well, her death, anyway.

“Then let's do it.”

Spike just blinked in response. He hadn't been expecting this, especially not this early. He had planned to give her another couple of days before pushing the issue further.

“Tonight.” she clarified, finally meeting his eyes.

“Are you sure, luv? We can wait.” he told her, and it almost killed him to play the concerned lover when all he wanted to do was drag her into the bedroom and shag her into submission.

“I.. Please?”

Spike gave up resisting the impulse, and pulled her into his arms before heading to the bedroom.

He was a bloody genius.

~*~

Willow had never felt this desperate for anything in her life – as far as she could remember, anyway. She'd been the one to insist Spike complete the claiming ritual, but she hadn't had an appreciation of what it entailed then – she did now, though. Or, at least, she had an idea. Whatever it was, it involved her dying from frustrated desire, because that was all she could feel right now.

That, and Spike's cock sliding deep within her pulsing channel. He's been at it for hours – there was a clock, she'd checked – and didn't seem intent on stopping any time soon. He just kept thrusting in and out of her, bringing her to the brink of orgasm time and time again, only to stop within seconds of her release, pulling her back into sexual frustration.

Her body was covered in sweat, every muscle aching in a way she hadn't felt since those first days after losing her memory. Her entire body was limp, and she'd given up on trying to join the process after the first hour or two. Her legs, which had begun wrapped tightly around his waist, were now splayed out, leaving her wide open and available for him to take her body, as he'd been doing for a while now.

“Willow.” he called out to her, dragging her attention to his face, catching her gaze with his own.

“Spike. I-” she started to say, only to be cut off.

“Let go, Willow.” he told her, never stopping his deep thrusts into her very core. She frowned in confusion, because she wasn't holding on to anything, least of all him – she didn't have the energy for that. Or the will. Every nerve ending in her body was pulsing with need, and her world narrowed down even more, to only the feel of Spike moving in her body.

“Let go.” he repeated, slowing his thrusts down, drawing out each movement for long seconds. She looked into his eyes, and saw something she'd never seen before – a glimpse of the demon behind the vampire. It wasn't Spike that was demanding her surrender, but his demon who wanted her body to submit to his.

Taking a deep breath – or as deep as she was able – Willow let lose that last knot of control she could feel in her chest, and gave herself up totally to the vampire above her. It was kind of freeing to realize she'd given everything she was to another person, but at the same time, incredibly terrifying.

In the end, she went with the acceptance and just opened herself up completely to Spike's claim, accepting him into her very soul.

She felt him lace their hands together, pressing them into the mattress next to her head, pinning her willing body in place with his own, as he took what was his.

Spike started to speed up, moving even deeper into her body with every strong stroke.

“Look at me.” he said, and she could do nothing else but obey him, her eyes moving to meet his.

“You belong to me.” he told her.

“I belong to you.” she whispered back, not too sure where the words were coming from.

“Everything you are is mine.”

“Everything I am is yours.”

“My will is your will.”

“Your will is my will.” she answered back, feeling a binding start with every word she spoke. Something inside of her was being pulled, and she could almost feel the irons chains binding her to her vampire forever.

“Only death can take you from me.”

“Only death can take me from you.”

“You will take no others into your body but me.”

“I will take no others into my body but you.”

He was silent for a few minutes, his eyes still holding hers by sheer force of will, before saying some words in a language she'd never heard before. She repeated them back to him, and saw satisfaction spread like a smirk across his face. Then he started to really pound in to her, and all she could do was take it and hope she would soon be able to come. Her entire body was focussed on his every movement, loving the way he slide deep and strong into her clenching channel, demanding a response from her as if it was his due – which it may very well be, now.

“Come for me, Willow.” he demanded after what felt like an eternity, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes locked with his as her body exploded in the most intense orgasm she'd had so far. Her body throbbed and pulsed with her release for what felt like hours, milking his cock as he exploded deep inside her, marking even that part of her as his.

It took her a few minutes to return to reality, so she wasn't too surprised to see Spike already starting the last part of the ritual. She couldn't see exactly what he was doing, but he'd explained it earlier so she had a good idea.

It turned out that the disk on the front of her collar – or choker, as Willow stubbornly insisted on calling it – was actually a locket of sorts, which would contain the ingredients of the spell needed to complete the claiming.

“Hold still, pet.” he told her, leaning over her.

She felt him playing with the front of her choker, a click announcing his opening of the round locket. He reached to the night stand, grabbing the small vile of green liquid, and poured some of the contents into the small reservoir. Capping the glass bottle, Spike quickly vamped out, using one of his fangs to pierce his index finger, squeezing out several drops of blood into the pooling green liquid in the locket. Reaching for Willow's hand, he repeated the same process, but allowed her to prick her finger, both of them hoping the chip wouldn't go off if he wasn't actually the instigator of the injury.

It went as expected, and soon Willow's blood joined his in the locket. Closing the locket, the entire choker got warm around her neck.

“Open up.” ordered Spike, uncapping the small bottle again. “Drink up.” was all he said as he poured the rest into her open mouth.

The instant she swallowed the bitter liquid, the heat from the choker expanded to her entire body, until she thought she would be burned to ashes.

“Mine.” said Spike, his lips closing over hers for a deep kiss.

“Yours.” Willow replied dreamily, her entire body still floating in the post-coital haze.

Willow felt herself pulled close at that, a cool body wrapping itself around her back as he wrapped his arms around her chest, squeezing tight in a way that made her feel safe.

Even though she was half aware of her surroundings, still floating in the after effects of the ritual, she found she couldn't fall asleep. Her mind was rushing too fast for her to fall into oblivion.

“Willow, go to sleep.” he whispered in her ear. “Rest up, because tomorrow I'm going to shag you into unconsciousness.”

Willow shivered with anticipation, her sore channel clenching at the words, and miraculously found her eyelids dropping. Soon, she was asleep, dreaming of nothing but her future with the blonde vampire.

~*~

Spike looked down at the pink crystal he held in his hand, and wondered for the millionth time, what the hell he was doing. This wasn't part of the plan. The plan had succeeded, up to a point. He'd erased her memories, gained her trust, then her body, and then he'd finally claimed her. She was tied to him in every conceivable way a vampire could tie a human to them.

The next and final step involved him giving her back her memories, as he got the hell out of town as fast a possible.

Instead, here he was at one of those damn ocean lookouts, three hours outside of Sunnydale, contemplating the crystal in his hand. He knew Willow was waiting in the car for him, but he couldn't make himself move just yet. There were things he had to work out, and being around his witch wasn't conducive to his thinking.

Ever since he'd claimed her three days ago, Spike had felt different. He wondered if the ritual had had consequences he wasn't aware of, but tossed that though aside. If it had made vampires feel like this, none of them would have repeated the process throughout the centuries. Especially not someone like the Master.

That was who Spike had learned all about the ritual from. He remembered being a newly turned vampire – barely two decades old – and being fascinated by the collared human by the Master's side. No one had been willing to answer his questions about it, so he'd finally gathered the courage to ask the vampire himself, and he'd never regretted it. Spike had learned about a very specific ritual that vampires could perform to chain a human to them, gaining themselves a companion until the human died was turned. He'd always wondered why it wasn't a more common practice among his kind, as it created a loyal pet that would never betray you. And in their society, total loyalty was hard to come by.

But watching his family throughout the years had given him his answer. Dru was too batty to ever learn how to seduce a human to her side – if she'd ever wanted to. Angelus had his own issues, and Darla never thought of anyone but herself. Most of the other vampires he'd met over the years never saw humans as anything more than food.

Spike had the knowledge in the back of his mind, always there as a potential strategy when dealing with humans, but had never felt the need to employ it. At least, not until some red headed witch cast a damn 'Will Be Done' spell on him, forcing him to become unnaturally close to the Slayer.

But he'd gotten his revenge, because now Willow was his. She'd feel the same need for him, as he'd felt for the Slayer while under her spell.

Only, it hadn't turned out as he'd expected. In the last days, he'd found he didn't want to let her go. He wanted to keep this devoted witch by his side, protecting her and enjoying her company.

He didn't want to give her her memories back.

He knew that if he was going to do it, now would be the time. It had been Willow's idea to leave town an go somewhere else – somewhere they could find a doctor to remove the damn chip in his head so he could protect himself. They were only a few hours out of Sunnydale when he'd had to pull over and think, all the while wondering when he'd grown a bleeding conscience. He shouldn't fucking care! He was a vampire; evil to the core. Seducing and destroying an innocent was well within his rights as an evil creature of the night(TM).

So why was he hesitating?

“Spike?” Willow's voice grabbed his attention as she approached him.

“I told you to stay in the car.” he said.

“You've been out here for awhile. I got worried.” she said, and Spike could hear the truth behind the words. “What is that?” she asked him, looking down at the crystal still in his hand.

The crystal that contained her memories. All he had to do was break it, and she'd know who she was. And who he was. She would leave him and run back to the Slayer.

“Nothing.” he said finally, coming to a decision. “Nothing of importance.”

And with every ounce of vampire strength, threw the crystal as far into the ocean as possible.

“Let's hit the road, luv.” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they walked back to the car.

It was time to get away from the Hellmouth for good.

END


	3. A dubious sequel to Snow White Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a sort-of sequel to [Snow White Queen](http://lyl-devil.livejournal.com/13613.html) (which is NC-17) that spans the following years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sort-of sequel from the 50sentences comm on LJ.

01 – Ring  
Sometimes Willow looks at her classmates' engagement and wedding bands, and envy wells up in her chest, wishing for such a public token of intention that's recognized by more than the underground demon community.

02 – Hero  
The day that Willow came home, trailing a litter of demon pups behind her like she was the conquering hero with her legion of adoring fans, Spike couldn't stop laughing for a week – until he realized she intended to keep them all.

03 – Memory  
It was strange what remained despite her amnesia, because neither of them could have predicted the well of information Willow had retained in her memory, locked in there after years of researching demons and the odd apocalypse for the Slayer.

04 – Box  
Spike was never one for anniversaries or special occasions, but he did occasionally make an effort to leave a plain brown box topped with a ribbon on the kitchen table for Willow to find when she got back from classes – the smile on her face was always worth it.

05 – Run  
Spike couldn't understand it, but the early morning runs made Willow happy – plus he got to join her in the shower after, so it was a plus in his book.

06 – Hurricane  
The weekend that Buffy came to town was a whirlwind of activity, as Spike kept his minions running around New York in an attempt to kept the Slayer away from his territory and his witch.

07 – Wings  
Huh – so cupid really did have wings.

08 – Cold  
“You're room temperature, I'm not – turn up the heat, Spike!!”

09 – Red  
She was not suppose to bleed like that - ever!

10 – Drink  
Spike looked at the half-dead witch lying limp on the bed and said “Well, pet – at least you have a tequila story, now.”

11 – Midnight  
_'Midnight Blood' – the hour of death_ \- The title alone made the book a worthwhile purchase for a giggling Willow, but the picture on the cover was pure delight.

12 – Temptation  
Sometimes she would pick up the phone and start to dial Buffy's number – obtained through a helpful online 411 – but inevitably hung up before she finished dialling.

13 – View  
“Yeah, the view of hookers and decomposing sewage is a selling point - Next!”

14 – Music  
When the mood hit right, Spike would sit down at the rarely-used piano and play for hours, and Willow would sit quietly by, silently absorbing the echoing melodies.

15 – Silk  
The green silk dress reached just above her knees and had a camouflaged slit up the side that provided tantalizing views of slender thighs, just the thing to drive a master vampire crazy on their anniversary.

16 – Cover  
“Would you look at this – bloody embarrassing!” Spike ranted, holding out the book 'Midnight Blood', which sported a realistic likeness of Spike as the blood-thirsty cover monster and the author as Dawn Summers.

17 – Promise  
When they'd first settled in New York, he'd made a promise to himself that he'd give Willow whatever she wanted, and if that meant medical school, then that's what his witch would get.

18 – Dream  
She sometimes had dreams that seemed to come from another life, where Spike came after her with a face full of fangs, throwing her on a bed with more violence than he had ever directed at her, or where she was dancing with some blonde girl, floating above the heads of an entire club full of people, but the dreams always faded upon awakening, leaving behind nothing but a vague sense of longing.

19 – Candle  
Spike followed the trail of lit candles that led predictably to the bedroom, and felt an unneeded breath catch in his throat at the sight of his Willow, in all her lingeried sexyness, splayed out on the bed as an offering.

20 – Talent  
She'd spent so much time bandaging up wounds on both demon and human alike, that Willow figured she should do it right by going back to school to put her acquired talent to the test.

21 – Silence  
He hadn't realized how just her presence filled the room, until she was gone.

22 – Journey  
It had taken longer than most, but she was finally there – Dr. Willow Rosenberg.

23 – Fire  
The demon world called her 'Flame', a name and reputation garnered after the time Spike was ambushed and she thought him dead – the magical energies crackling around her, lighting her hair as if it were on fire.

24 – Strength  
He didn't know how to go on without her – he wasn't strong enough anymore.

25 – Mask  
It took every ounce of will power she had, but Willow refused to let these pitiful excuses for vampires see her fear or anger – she'd leave that for Spike.

26 – Ice  
“Put some ice on that love, and remember for next time that the wall is harder than your hand, so don't go punching the bloody things.”

27 – Fall  
Every time they kissed, Willow fell in love all over again, and she hoped the day would never come where that didn't happen.

28 – Forgotten  
Sometimes she wondered if Spike had told her the truth back in Sunnydale, concerning her life before her amnesia, and only now wondered at the wisdom of not getting a second opinion.

29 – Dance  
On the opening night of their first Sanctuary club, he watched her dance amid a mix of humans and demons, smirking as the dancers made an effort to avoid touching her, while sending fearful glances in his direction.

30 – Body  
Running his hands up and down her figure, Spike knew he'd never get tired of this beautiful creature in his arms.

31 – Sacred  
The minute she walked on to the vacant lot, she knew that this was the place – the best land to build a Sanctuary club on.

32 – Farewells  
It had almost killed him to let her go, but Willow hadn't wanted to be turned - if it was the last thing he did, he'd respect her wishes.

33 – World  
“I'm not taking over the bloody world, pet – just a suburb of New York that no one will miss.”

34 – Formal  
Spike barely glanced down at the lithe form kneeling at his side as he addressed the occupants of his newly obtained territory for the first time, saying instead “This is Willow – look at her wrong, and if she doesn't gut you like a lowly Qu'iate demon, then I will.”

35 – Fever  
Spike watched her body twist and turn as she fought her way free of the virus, reminding him all too vividly that she was still only mortal.

36 – Laugh  
He loved to make her laugh, and tried his best to get her past the hysterical laughter and in to the snorting, if only to make fun of her.

37 – Lies  
Willow had always known that Spike hadn't been completely honest about their life before her amnesia, but after a few years, she lost the desire to call him on it.

38 – Forever  
Willow had thought long and hard before making her choice, not wanting to leave her vampire behind, but her decision was made – she wouldn't allow Spike to have the soulless shell masquerading as her, she wouldn't become a vampire.

39 – Overwhelmed  
He couldn't stay in this apartment, in the neighbourhood or even the city – every corner he turned just reminded him of all that he had lost, reminded him of her.

40 – Whisper  
In the morning he doesn't remember what he said to her the night before as she'd trembled in his arms from half-forgotten memories and dreams, but knows that it was enough.

41 – Wait  
“Willow, stop pacing – they won't be posting the exam results for another hour.”

42 – Talk  
“Bloody women and their silent treatment!”

43 – Search  
If they thought they could take his witch and break him, they obviously hadn't faced a master vampire on the hunt for his human mate – they would take weeks to die.

44 – Hope  
_He'll be ok. He'llbeokhe'llbeok!_

45 – Eclipse  
They'd danced on the sidewalk one dark afternoon, celebrating life under the blacked out sun.

46 – Gravity  
Her favourite magic trick was always the gravity-defying ones, where she'd float herself across the room, the park, or – on one memorable night – the entire city of New York.

47 – Highway  
Spike eased his grip on the steering wheel a little more with each mile marker they passed, leaving Sunnydale and its dangers in their wake.

48 – Unknown  
Staring sightlessly out the tinted car window, Willow played absently with the choker that signified the only thing she was absolutely sure of, and wondered where this life would take her now.

49 – Lock  
“Damnit, woman – open the bloody door!”

50 – Breathe  
“Breathe, baby, you've got to breathe for me. Please.”


End file.
